


First and Last

by hawkeyelover



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is afraid of Burr and has every right to be, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Canonical Character Death, College AU!, F/F, F/M, Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Human Disaster Aaron Burr, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Reincarnation, Romance, Slow Burn, Traumatized! Alexander, possibly office AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeyelover/pseuds/hawkeyelover
Summary: They counted their paces to ten.One fired, one didn't.One fell, and one didn't...Alexander knew death like it was an old friend. Hurricanes, war, sickness. Death was supposed to be the end. He wasn't supposed to come back. But he did....And so did the man that killed him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little thing that came into my mind while listening to "The World Was Wide Enough".  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> PROLOGUE

_\--_

_“Wait!”_

That was the last thing he remembered. A stricken cry, a hand reaching in his direction before all went fuzzy and odd, as if he were drunk. And fear struck through Hamilton’s heart because he can’t die, not without saying goodbye to ( _Dearest,)_ Angelica, to Eliza--his love--

_Laurens leads a soldier’s chorus on the other side. . ._

His sons, his daughters-- 

 _My_ son _is on the other side!_

And so, with strong arms carrying him off the battlefield and watching the streaks of first light pierce the clouds, Hamilton smiled, holding up a trembling, bloody hand. He remembered the way his ship to freedom rocked in the gentle waves; the young man laughed to heavens, reaching a hand to the dawning sun.

Someone is. . .yelling. No, _screaming._

“ _Wait! WAIT! I have to see him!”_

But the voice fades away and the pain starts to set in. Burning deep pain, hurt where he couldn’t reach to soothe and he wailed in agony.

\--

He said his goodbyes to the Schuyler sisters.

Angelica, the only one to match Hamilton’s intellectual wit and fierceness in every way, had tears staining her cheeks. _“You fool,”_ she’d whispered. _“You daft fool, what were you thinking?”_

 _“I tried to give her the best life,”_ he’d croaked out, and his darling Betsey had sobbed and clutched his red-stained hand to her cheek. His blood marred her pretty face. “ _B-best of wives. . . and best of w-women,”_ he had smiled weakly, intelligent eyes dim.

And with a sister’s hand in each of his own, he crossed to the other side.

.

.

.

.

Or at least, that’s what’s supposed to happen when one dies.

But as the universe is known to royally fuck up Hamilton's life, such was not the case.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and reviews are appreciated :)


	2. count your paces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see end for notes.

Alex knew death like the back of his hand-- an old friend, it wasn’t an unusual thing. He was twelve when his mother died. He moved in with his cousin, he committed suicide. John and Phillip and Washington. . .all gone.

He’d lived a rather interesting life for a bit, adopted by a kind and yet familiar couple: the Watkinsons--which he later found out were the Washingtons. 

He was fifteen when he remembered. He remembered everything. The affair, the letters, the election of 1800.

The duel.

It would wake him on most nights in a cold sweat, even now as a junior in college. Just like tonight. Alex abruptly sat up, huffing to himself.  _ Goddamnit.  _ Stupid fucking nightmares, stupid  _ fucking  _ duel, and  _ stupid fucking Aaron Bu-- _

“Nope! No, no, no, nope,  _ no.  _ Fuck that,” Alex exclaimed, shaking his head as if to forcefully eject the thoughts of  **him** from his mind. Today was going to a good day. “A good day.” He repeated to himself. “Today is gonna be a good day.”

-

Today was fucking terrible. It started off like any other morning.

“Gotta run, gotta run, gotta run, gotta run,  _ sorry _ !” The immigrant yelped as he dashed through random throngs of people filling up the courtyard. 

“Hey!”

“What the fuck?”

“Yo, who the hell is this?!”

One note. He stopped just to write down just one little note, just jotting something down for a later assignment and suddenly it turned into five and a half pages of chicken scrawl. What could say? Eliza had been half his impulse control.

Papers dangled precariously from the crooks of his elbows, from under his chin and arms, crinkling as he scurried into the main building of King’s-- er, Columbia University as they called it now. 

“Need a little help there,  _ Hamill _ ?” A familiar, nasally southern accent dripped from the new voice and Alex looked to the sweet gods above with a pleading expression.

_ Why me? _

“Go away, Jeffries.” Alex mocked right back to the man in front of him, emphasizing the last word with a cold sneer. A paper clinging to his side for dear life was plucked delicately from its place pinned under his elbow.

“Hey!”

The taller man smirked and adjusted his disgustingly hipster glasses (rather pompously, Alex might add) and began to scan the page. “Still the same garbage as ever.” He mused, shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised? You’d think a few hundred years would help you fix up that atrocious writing of yours.”

The nevisian growled with irritation, snatching the paper back. Jeffries just grinned and held his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “Just saying my opinion, that’s all, sugar.”

“Ah, yes, but I’m afraid it’s both unwarranted and unwanted,” the shorter man snarked back, and tacked on, “now move, I’m late to class.”

Jeffries’ eyebrows shot up in a faux innocent look. “Oh, you want me to move? Move where? Here? There?” He stepped in whatever direction Alex did, snickering when the man grew openly frustrated.

“Damnit Jefferson! Just move!” He shoved past the tall Virginian, and the man’s boisterous,  _ fucking annoying  _ laugh bounced off the walls.

“Ta, Alex! Have fun lowering everyone’s IQs with that nonsense!” He heard called out behind him but he had no time to back and kick the man’s shins in half so he stormed away.

Maybe another time.

“Motherfucker,” Alex grumbled under his breath.

Today was not a good day.

-

Lunch didn’t turn out to be any better.

“Yo, you see Lee’s face? It was purple I swear!” Laurel cackled, holding onto Mullin’s shoulder as his friend wheezed. “I’ve never seen him more pissed in my life!” Watching Alex stumble into class in a flurry of papers during Professor Lee’s lecture had been rather amusing. To those observing at the very least.

“Yeah, no. Really funny. Hilarious, even.” Alex intoned, watching his idiot friends make utter fools of themselves.

_ What time is it? Showtime! _

“Oh, come on, ‘Lex. Do not be such a, eh, how do you say? Twig in the mud?” Gilburt playfully jostled the angry little man.

“I am not a stick in the mud!” Alex protested. “It’s been a shitty morning, alright?” He sighed, running his hands through his short hair*. Yes,  _ short. _ He figured it was time for a change. ‘Mulan-style’ as John had referred to. But really, he didn’t mind the teasing. Not when he was so fortunate to have found his friends again. It seems whether consciously or not, the gang (including the Schuyler sisters and some other undesirables) had all been drawn to Columbia University, to the heart of New York City ( _ The greatest city in the world!) _ . Heartfelt apologies, tears, and greetings had come abound from everyone. Well. . . most everyone. . .

_ Can I buy you a drink? _

They didn’t talk about that, though. Peggy had brought it up that  **he** was missing, curious, as she had no idea what had transpired. Alex left the room and didn’t come out of his dorm for three days. Since then, no one dared to bring up the duel, or the other man who partook in it.

“You stay up all night writing again?” Herc frowned at him, snapping him out of his drifting mind.

“No, I-- guys I  _ swear _ \--” Alex interrupted himself in response to the disbelieving stares --“ I tried to sleep last night, I did! I just. . . couldn’t, I guess.” He lied.

“Nightmares?” John prompted with a soft voice, but a hint of righteous anger sparked in his eyes. Needless to say, when he had found out exactly how his best friend had died, it wasn't pleasant. If it wasn’t for Alex’s pleading, he would have gone out to search for the man responsible and gun him down to give him a taste of his own medicine. He’d never liked him, anyway.

The immigrant shrugged, fiddling with the hem of his sweater, his silence only confirmed John’s theory. Herc reached over to ruffle his hair reassuringly, and Laf silently slid over a Snickers bar. Alex chuckled quietly at his friends’ actions, ever thankful to have them by his side. 

_ I never had a group of friends before, I promise that I’ll make y’all proud. . . _

“Thanks, guys,” the nevisian murmured and offered a weak smile. “I should, um. . . I should get to class, though.”

The gang watched him walk off, frowns twisting their faces, and Herc and Laf jumped when John slammed a fist on the table.

“Fuckin’ Burr,” he spat furiously. “This is all his fault.”

Laf leaned in. “Mon ami, you forget Alex was the one to accept his challenge. He knew what he was doing.”

“That doesn’t make it okay! He fucking shot him! He was supposed to be his friend!”

“. . . do you think Alex would have done the same?” Herc asked quietly. The other two looked at him in surprise. “I mean. . . he never really talked about it. I heard he fired at the sky, but, like, in another life. A different time, I mean. You think he could have done it?”

The table was silent, pondering the hypothetical situation.

“No. . .” Laf drew out slowly. “No, I do not think so. Alex is many things-- a murderer is not one of them. In this life or any other.”

“He is a good man.”

-

The chilly wind swirled through the leaves, occasionally tugging one to the ground. The cold nipped at Alex’s nose and ears, and numbed his fingertips. He absently remembered Eliza always telling him not to forget his coat.

_ I’ll be back before you know I’m gone. _

Before he knew it, he was back inside the safety of his dorm, and he promptly settled on his bed with his laptop in a massive mountain of blankets. No better thing to get his mind off the day than writing a good old essay ramming the current person in power of the U.S. government.

While he typed, the man’s eyes slid over to the empty bed nearby. His dorm mate was unfortunately not one of his friends, but a Mr. James Madison. It could be worse, he supposed. It could be Thomas.

Alex shuddered with disgust at the mere thought.

Just do what you do best, Alex, he thought to himself, write.

-

_ He rode across the hudson just before dawn. _

_ Aaron had arrived first, as had been previously agreed on. He had his back to Alexander, speaking lowly with his second. _

_ A doctor, who happened to be an old friend of his sifted through his kit, checking he had all his items in case they were needed. But Alexander knew they wouldn’t be necessary. Aaron wouldn’t hurt him. _

_ His second, his lieutenant, was his friend Nathaniel Pendleton, both a fellow lawyer hailing from Georgia and a soldier. They had been rivals at first, sure, each gunning for their position in office but they became friends later on. _

**_“I thank you My Dear Sir for your friendly offices in this last critical scene, if such it shall be. . .”_ **

_ He had left him a letter. Why did he do that? There was no need. No blood would be spilled today, yet. . .  _

_ “I shall attempt to reason with Van Ness,” Nathaniel murmured to him, “perhaps we can put an end to this.” _

_ “You have nothing to fear for, my dear friend. I know Burr better than most. He won’t shoot. I am certain of it.” _

_ But his second looked grim, lines deep between his eyebrows. “If there has ever been anyone in all existence who is most  _ **_uncertain_ ** _ of where he stands, it is Burr, Hamilton.”  _

_ But before Alexander could say anything more, Nathaniel was already on his way to the middle of the clearing. He watched his friend argue, red in the face, waving his hands furiously. The other man shook his head, a stubborn determination etched onto his face. _

_ The immigrant looked down, to the gun in his hands. His own pistols sat at home, mounted on the wall, untouched. H couldn’t bear to take them down again after his son’s death. Instead, the man had borrowed a dueling pistol from John Church, Angelica’s husband. He gently traced down its length, fingering the trigger and was unaware he being watched. _

_ His rival, his friend, his enemy, watched Alexander with a heavy gaze, only looking away when his second stormed over to him. _

_ “Well?” _

_ Van Ness shook his head. _

_ “Very well, then. Time to count our paces.” _

_ - _

“ _ GAH!” _ Alex awoke in flurry of limbs and blankets, nearly knocking his laptop off the bed as a result.

He sighed. “Good lord,” The immigrant muttered, “that’s what I get for sleeping.”

The nightmares were what he hated most about sleeping. It used to be because sleeping was just such a waste of time. The average human slept away twenty-five years of their lifetime! What a waste, what an utterly ridiculous way to spend a good portion one’s life. Resting, imagine that! As if there were all the time in the world for such a thing! Alex certainly didn’t have time for that, no, no. Not when he was running-- running out of time and there was still so much to do, so much to see, so much to  _ write _ . He had thrown away his time in his previous life: duels, drinking,  _ love _ ; his legacy was cut short, far too short. He often thought about all the things he never got to do, never got to say. To Dearest(,) Angelica, that one night like candlelight, he had so many things he wanted to tell her. Or to his lovely Eliza, all the apologies his pride had choked back down his throat, for being a terrible husband, and an even more terrible father. He didn’t come back for Lafayette. Didn’t say farewell to Mulligan.

So many things left uncompleted. . .

He would not make the same mistake twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be Fridays/Saturdays every 1-2 weeks.
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


	3. a. byrne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i listened to "all the king's horses and all the king's men" for this chapter. sorry for the wait, hope this makes up for it :)

“Alright, class, alright. Settle down-- _ that means you, Mulligan.”  _

The pointed reprimand wrangled a few sparse chuckles from the exhausted college students, and has some sending over dry looks to the culprit himself. The man in questions shrugged in defeat, snickering as he bumped shoulders with of his many partners in crime.

“Watching you get  _ Franklin  _ frustrated is like a work of art,” Alex muttered with a small grin. His friend waggled his eyebrows ridiculously, shimmying his shoulders and the smaller man cackled and tossed his head back. “You fucking soggy waffle.”

“ _ Okay, _ as you were all informed as of last week, for the next few days you will all be working on the partner project for your midterms.” A cheer rose from the class and people began milling about to seek out their friends in the class. “ _ I did not say you can pick your own partners.” _ Professor Franklin announced loudly, raising his arms and doling out stern looks for those who groaned.

“Frank, my dude, my man!” Mulligan protested, standing. “Why you gotta do us like that?”

“No ifs, buts, or whats, Mr. Mullin.” Franklin peered out through rounded spectacles. “As Overlord of all you small and wonderful pupils, you do what I say. After names are announced, I want you picking a subject with your assigned partner and following the outline posted online. I want the written portion of this project to, preferably, not be as long as  _ City of Fire.”  _ A pause. _ “ _ Yes, that was directed towards you, Mr. Hamil.” The rotund man ran a speckled, wrinkled hand over his balding head as the class sniggered in unison.

“Love you, too!”

“Sit down, Mr. Hamil.”

“Yes, sir.”

__________________________________________________________

“I cannot fucking believe this.”

Laf rolled his eyes in a way only Laf could. “It’s not that bad, Lex, please.” Mulligan snorted in response, earning a painful tug on the ear.

“You’re only saying that because you got  _ Angelica  _ of all people,” Alex hissed, lips twisted into a scowl. “Lucky mother fucker.”

“Ah, yes. That is true.” The frenchman smirked, giggling when a limp french fry hit his chest. He held the limp fry up and grinned. “Look, Herc. It is your dick.”

“You bi--!” 

Alex sighed, ignoring Laf’s cries for help as Mulligan put him in a headlock. “Joooohn, what do I do? Seaburn is, like, the most annoying person I can think of. You have to help me.” His brown eyes went wide as the nevisian donned his puppy face.

“Baby girl, I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe Franklin might change his mind?” John shrugged, licking ketchup off his thumb.

“Wow. Great support, really. From all of you. I’m so thankful.”

“Is that boy  _ still  _ complaining?” A new voice broke in, a small delicate hand twisting Herc’s hand into a painful iron hold.

“Ow,  _ ow!  _ Pegs, please!” The mountain of a man begged pitifully, and Laf, well, laughed at him. “Light of my life, divine queen--” he moaned dramatically, and Peggy rolled her eyes and released him.

“Seriously, Alex, it’ll be fine. It’s just for a few days,” she soothed, scooping up their empty baskets and plates. “You can even skype with him if you want to. You won’t even have to meet up. Stop being such a scrub and get over it.”

“I am not a scrub,” Alex grumbled, and Peggy patted his cheek sympathetically. 

“You’ll live, sweetie. Now, dessert or check? And I expect a bomb-ass tip for dealing with y’all.”

_______________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, back at the CU campus, a young man with rich dark skin and sly, polite smile strode up to the desk of the administration office, a bag slung over his shoulder and papers in hand.

The redheaded woman across the counter looked up, and smiled in returned. “Hello, there. How can I help you?”

“Ah, well, you see, I just transferred over from Yale University,”the man explained smoothly, all charm and manners. “I believe my uncle called yesterday? Everything should be set up online, credits and such. I have hard copies here, as well.” 

The woman’s thin brows raised, and her long manicured fingernails ‘ _ clacked clacked clacked’  _ as she typed away. “Oh yes. I see the changes were made just this morning. Just for confirmation, you are. . .?”

“Aaron. Aaron Byrne, ma’am.”

_______________________________________________________

On his way back to his dorm, Alex stopped dead in his tracks as a chill ran down his spine. He couldn’t quite place it, but the man just had the strangest feeling. Like. . . a pit of dread opening up like a sinkhole right in his stomach. Like something was terribly, terribly wrong, like. . .

Tensions growing.

Or something out of place? Alex shook his head.  _ Everything’s fine. I’m fine. I’m okay. _

Everything was. . . just fine.

Then why didn’t it feel like it?

________________________________________________________

The next day went more or less without a hitch, ignoring the odd feeling deep within him, shrugging off his friend’s concerns, the usual.

“I just, I  _ don’t know,  _ Eliza.” The small man threw his hands up helplessly. “It’s just a feeling, I know, but. . .” He sighed, unsure of what to say.

The gorgeous, ever-so-patient, and saintly “Eleanor Stone” (known in a former life as Elizabeth Schuyler) tilted her lips in a amused smile. “Alexander Hamil, speechless? Who would have thought?”

Seeing him frown petulantly, Eliza giggled, reaching for his hand. “Okay, okay, sorry.” The smile died as the two sat in a moment of silence, each struck by memories of their old life together. The woman felt her friend rub the back of her slender fingers. She bit her lip.

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Liz. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I was, like, a fetus.”

“Alexander.”

The familiar don’t-you-bullshit-me tone had the immigrant wincing. “Not-- not really, no.” Alex admitted softly, and felt his hand being squeezed. He hated this. Feeling so weak, and relying on someone he had hurt so badly, someone’s life he had  _ ruined _ . Eliza was an angel, strong-willed and powerful and yet so kind. He really didn’t deserve her. In this life or any other. Sometimes, he felt as though he didn’t deserve to have anyone left at his side. Obsessed with his legacy, with the things his name would be associated with in the future, he never thought of the things that he had in the present--er, past, now. He had left Lafayette to rot in jail, had not spoken to Mulligan for years before he died, and John. . .

Oh, his John.

How could he have been so blind? Dancing around, leading his poor friend astray and in the dust when he married Eliza. And Angelica-- they could have never been together and yet. He’d felt the spark, a gentle candlelight. Alex should have  _ said  _ something. Sorry, or-- what, exactly?

“Hey, Lex?” Eliza’s worried face peering at his had Alexander blinking dumbly. “Don’t do that, please. I see what you’re doing, getting lost in your head like that.”

He closed his eyes, wondering they became so watery. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just--” The lump in his throat, heavy and choking cut off the rest of his words and he buried his face in his past love’s knuckles. “ _ I’m so sorry. I don’t d-deserve--” _

“Oh, Alex, shh,” Eliza murmured, bringing her free hand up to cradle the back of his head. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“My Betsey.” Alex croaked. “I--”

“I know, Alex. I know.”

_____________________________________________________

“Professor? You wanted to see me?” The immigrant shifted in the doorway, curiously peeking his head in. The older man was shuffling through papers, muttering to himself. 

“Huh? Erm, yes, yes, come in, Mr. Hamil. I’ll be with you in just a moment. Take a seat.”

Slinging his bag into a desk adjacent to his, Alex threw himself down in a careless sprawl, whipping his phone out of his hoodie pocket to scroll through Twitter.

It was a few more minutes before his teacher was done and he was called up.

“Okay, Mr. Hamil. I know you have had some. . . reservations. . . on your assigned partner for this upcoming project.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.”

Despite his flippant tone, Alex felt something like hope unfurl in his chest. Could it be?

“And lucky for you, we have had a student transfer over from Yale--”

“--Seriously--?”

“--and I feel you two would be great for this project. I’ll be assigning Mr. Seaburn to work with another grou--”

“ _ Yes! _ ” Alex crowed, pumping his fist victoriously.

“ _ However,  _ Mr. Hamil,” Franklin continued on firmly, “in exchange I expect you to do your best to work well with this new student. Show him around, be nice. You might even make a new friend.”

“Absolutely, Professor, I swear, our presentation will be the  _ shit-- _ ”

“ _ Language, young man--” _

“--It’ll be great,” the young man beamed, shaking his teacher’s hand vigorously, “thank you so much!”

“Mmm-hmm. That’ll be all. I’ll introduce you two tomorrow.”

“See you then!” 

_____________________________

“Yes, yes, yes!” Alex cried, dancing ridiculously, through the courtyard. What a fucking relief. The last time he and Seaburn spoke, it hadn’t gone so well. 

“As if I’d last a week with that guy,” Alex grinned to himself. “ I couldn’t think of a worse asshole to be partners wi-- _ oof!” _

Distracted by his own little celebration, the nevisian hadn’t even noticed there had been someone right in his path, colliding into a firm chest and falling flat on his ass as a result.

“Oh, sorry about that.” 

Alex froze. His eyes glued to the person’s shoes.

A voice like velvet.

_ “That depends, who’s--” _

“Are you alright?”

_ “Can I buy you--?” _

“Hello?”

_ “WAIT--!” _

Slowly, Alex’s eyes trailed up from a pair of brown oxford’s, dark slacks, a black button up to--

_ The face of the man that put a bullet between his ribs. _

**_No._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated :)


End file.
